


Secrets

by sleepygrimm



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Depression, Eventual Romance, F/M, Mystery, Suicide, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-12-14 12:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21015665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepygrimm/pseuds/sleepygrimm
Summary: From one life to the afterlife. Some believe that a person’s spirit leaves the body, but it becomes trapped when something hinders it from transition. Therefore, continue to exist seeking peace.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. Take note of the warnings and tags. If this makes you uncomfortable don't read. Please never consider suicide. YOU MATTER. Whatever it is that your going through, Always reach out. people are willing to listen. willing to help. Friends, Family, Counselors, Therapists will help to see solutions.  
A romanogers halloween 2019. With a dash of winterwitch.

Natasha had to see where her sister died. 

She gripped the handrail leading up to the steps to the beach house. It creaked a little as if warning her not to trespass. The howling winds swept through the streets of Fort Morgan. It’s salty mist, tides almost rhythmic. A land jutting out into the Gulf of Mexico. It boasts of heritage sites and had played a significant role in the Battle of Mobile Bay all through WW1 and WW2.

With access to its beachfront the town offered ocean side homes where you can see tourists and locals basking on the peninsula’s sun-drenched beaches. With her sister, she grew up with in Fort Morgan and had ridden their bicycles down the street on their way to collect seashells.

She looked around and realized that it was dark and silent. It was once filled with laughter. Family and friends spend the weekend to relax and enjoy get together for a barbecue.

Natasha rubbed the ache in her chest and forced herself up the stairs. No one had been in the house since ‘the body’ had been removed. With shaking hands, she inserted the key, turned the knob and opened the door. She stepped into the living room, closed the door and leaned into it. Winds rushing in from the large windows. And the lavender scent come to curl softly around her. as if welcoming her...delicate, precious and pure...just as her sister had been until later years.

Her sister stepped into the shadows of grief and anger. When her husband went MIA on his last deployment. She became reclusive. Appearing only when necessary. Frustrated and helpless… now she is gone. Leaving without closure.

“‘I love you Nat and take care of the old man. Is one hell of a fuckin suicide note. You should have come to me for help. You could have told me everything. But No, you just killed yourself, didn’t you? Well, I’ve got news kiddo, I’m not fuckin buying it!” The lavender scent seemed stronger. She could almost hear her voice _I missed you Nat..._

_ —————————————————————-_

Natasha studied the house, large casement windows lets through bright sunshine in the morning, the living room is furnished with modern couches and tables, pillows covered with bohemian patterns. Very much like her sister. The entertainment center is equipped with classic vinyl. The couple’s choice of music.

She went into the pristine kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets. Ceramic dishes, teapots, copper pans and silverware. The kitchen was her sister’s sanctuary. She loved to cook. The siphon coffee maker is dusty. She remembered purchasing it as a wedding present. _This is so wicked Nat! OMG! _

She went over the fridge, photos and souvenir magnets from their travels where stuck in its door.

She went into the bedroom and saw that the drawers have been riffled. The king size bed where her sister died was mussed. Probably from the investigators, sat down listing...In the corner stood a floor length mirror over it hanged the red leather jacket. _Can I borrow it please? Just for tonight? _

Her vanity table where her jewelries are carefully placed. Her guitar sits in a loveseat beside her leather boots. In the bathroom, her sister’s cosmetics ran across the counter mixed with a man’s toiletries. She suffered so much heartache that she refused to keep his things. left it the way it was. hoping one day he’ll return. Attached to the side mirror is a photograph of her sister and Steve.

Natasha frowned; she took the photo at the back was her sister's loopy handwriting. _Thank you, Steve xx. _

Her body tensed. She never did like Rogers and his best friend. They started hanging around Nick’s gym after coming back from their tours. As a fellow veteran Nick welcomed them and started to train. But the cocksure attitude and boyish grin made her nineteen-year-old sister swoon and began a relationship with the twenty-four-year-old Sgt. after five years, they got married.it wasn't until his best friend got deployed that he stopped coming.

Seeing her reflection in the mirror, her make up did not conceal the grief in her green eyes. Her hair was pulled in a bun. The wind has taken a few strands of red hair from its confinement. Her face pale and sunken.

Natasha went back to the living room crumpled into the white sofa, knees bent, hugging herself. in the last few years, her sister became cynical and cold. She would stare at Nat as if wanting to tell a secret. she looked around the house. It was chilly and the warmth has died. She closed her eyes and heard echoes of a young girl’s giggle. Heading towards the beach after a grueling day of school, daring her to come into the icy water and build sandcastles. She caught the lavender scent again and sensed that her sister is near. She picked up her sister’s throw blanket and wrapped it around herself.

She whispered. “Wanda? You’re still here,aren't you?” 

_I’m still here. you dope, always. _Natasha frowned, chilled by the room.

“I should have been there for you. I’m sorry.” 

————————————————————————————

It’s been a week since she arrived from New York. Grieving with Nick, Clint and Laura. Days after Wanda’s funeral have been rough. Nick was so devastated that he looked twice his age. He closed the gym and drank almost every night. She won't leave for New York before checking in on the situation. and Nick back on his feet. Steve was at the funeral and by the looks of it he’s in much greater pain and knows something. And she’s hell bent on finding it out.

She stayed at the apartment right above Nick’s gym. Slept in her old bedroom. They were both adopted by Nicholas J. Fury, an army veteran. He met little Natasha while on a mission in Budapest.

They were survivors of the bombing that took place near the orphanage. He knew then that the twelve-year-old redhead was a spitfire. Set to fight for what she wanted. Independent, logical, methodical and determined. And she stood with her chin up and clasping the hand of a seven-year-old frightened little girl. With long chestnut hair and blue eyes. Just looking at the girls made Nick’s heart ache. But he can't raise kids much less girls. He is always on a mission. He can't just leave them in an empty apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. But it seemed that things were meant to be when he got injured while deployed and cost him his left eye. With enough savings, he decided to move from New York to Fort Morgan.

The town is more conducive in raising little girls than Hell’s Kitchen anyway. “If you adopt me, that includes my little sister too. We are a package deal you know. Think about it, when you got two daughters you won't be doing any house chores. I’ll teach her how to run things like laundry, vacuuming, cooking. We can both wear the same clothes and with two dependents it will help you save with money. And even if we're girls we can do what boys can.” Nick shook his head and after a lot of paperwork he was able to bring her ‘daughters’ home.

With hard work, everybody pulling, the three of them lived in a nice apartment above Nick’s gym. Some say it’s a place not suited for girls because the place is not where people just get into shape but also trained to fight. There are days when things get pretty hardcore. And fighters will come crawling after a few spar sessions. At fifteen Natasha started her training followed by Wanda. By the time they were eighteen they started to kick ass in the ring. But Nick was strict. Education comes first. Natasha was able to get a scholarship at NYU and Wanda at Julliard.

The girls are not confined in the ring. They were able dancers as well. With enough income, Nick opened up a space beside the gym for Wanda. Where she teaches dancing and art class for young children. And during school breaks, Natasha teaches ballet to little girls.

Natasha tossed back her head. The wind took her hair away flying over her face. She began walking towards Rogers Classics. It was a couple of blocks away from the gym and she could use the time to think. Less than a quarter of a mile you can hear the pounding of the waves in Fort Morgan’s sandy beaches. And a slight overcast that made the late afternoon somewhat cooler. She picked up her pace. Crossing over apartments and buildings. It’s not even tourist season but people have been coming to town. Cafes and restaurants are setting up for dinner reservations.

Out of breath but not out of temper Natasha is standing in front of a weathered garage. With its high board fences and lock chained gates with a Beware of Dog sign. Through it parked a blue Tacoma and a classic Harley. She jabbed the buzzer several times but the shop remained closed but she can see lights from the apartment above and blues music. She took a moment to gauge the fence, she found a footing and started up.

A piece of her Gucci white button-down blouse snagged on an edge and tore. “Shit, this is going to cost you, Rogers.” From the top she looked to the ground of battered garbage cans on the side and the Tacoma on the other. “Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.” She leaped and in impact landed on top of the Tacoma rolled on the side and hit the garbage cans. Jackknifed into sitting she cursed, tossed away a banana peel— a warm rough tongue licked her face. Then rain started to pour. “Great!”

The mixed breed boxer started barking and she remembered the Beware of the Dog sign. “Quiet!” The man ordered firmly. Then asked “Anything broken?”

That deep brawl raw on its power belong to only one man. A man who doesn't talk unless he's got something important to say. Steve Rogers eyes were deep blue cutting at her. winds whipping his blonde hair away from his perfect face.

_Wait. What? _

Without a shirt and jeans that rode away down his hips Steve was all primitive male.

“If it was, I wouldn't tell you.” She began straightening her jeans and blouse.

With the rising wind and rain, it carried a smell of soap and whiskey to her.

He stepped up on the Tacoma’s running board. All six feet and two inches rubbed a gentle hand on the roof and glared down at her. “You put a dent on my roof!”

“You think that stupid fence is going to stop me. I’ve been buzzing and no one answered.” She scoffed.

He stepped from the running board and faced down at her, he touched her cheek lightly with his thumb, saying gently. “You've been crying.”

She didn't expect the brief contact, “and you've been drinking.” 

“Okay.” Steve stated grimly as he placed his hands on his hips and towering over her. “people usually drink at wake, you want closure, someone to blame, go ahead but don't start on me. I cared for her too.”

“Then you should have done something.”

“You think, I didn't?” He asked grimly.

“No, I don't.”

“But you weren't even around either, were you?” He leveled her and it went cut straight to the truth. She blinked back tears.

“I’m sorry about Wanda, I really am.” He added softly.

She blinked and damned the tear that rolled down her cheek.

“I’m here to tell you off.” She said evenly.

“I thought so. You were working on it at the funeral. Your eyes sizzle when your mad.and that deep little frown. It’s almost cute.”

He’d never said so much to her in years, and now it’s treading on the edge of making a pass. Natasha shoved herself into a mad pile, ready to explode. “you were supposed to be there for her. You are the next closest thing to her husband. She trusted you and you let her down.”

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously.” Uh -huh, and your where? New York climbing up the corporate ladder?”

He was enjoying this and Natasha served him the first of her tell offs. “She looked up to you. She came running to you than me. And you took advantage. I can't believe Nick didn't gut you for it.”

“He knows better.”

Steve sounded distracted and Natasha realized that he was looking at her breasts, his expression hard. A quick glance downward told her after the fall, she tore a bit of her white blouse and the rain dampen it to her skin making it sheer and the pink lace visible.

She fought the flush that had risen to her cheeks. Steve’s narrowed eyes locked with hers.” You’re either cold or worked up and needing se— “ 

Natasha jerked up her blouse and it momentarily stopped her thoughts.

“I didn't come up here to talk about my life.”

“Then feel free to come inside and call somebody to pick you up or do you have that cell phone thing that you always use? There’s a door on the left side of the gate. It’s electronic. I’ll unlock it for you.” Steve stood and walked his way towards the shop’s office. The mixed breed boxer looked at Natasha and its master. He whined and trotted after him.

Steve had the butt that made women stop and stare, but Natasha told herself she’s not a fan of narrow hips, hard butts and long legs.

In the years that she has known him. He never touched her or been close. The blush remained on her cheeks. The startling awareness of his thumb against her cheek. The need to touch him. Natasha closed her eyes, took a deep breath and reminded herself with her mission.

“Get out of my way, Rogers.”

“Sure thing, babe.” Gallantly he bowed and open the office door. Steve swept his hand indicating she was to enter. His stare took in the entire length of her body, locking to her breasts then rose to meet her eyes with a slight smirk that lit Natasha’s temper.

“I came to talk to you about Wanda.”

Steve’s grin was taunting. “Okay, so get it off your chest. You need someone to lay it on, might as well be me.”

His slow look reminded Natasha of the wet blouse that is clinging to her body.

He tilted his head. “You were saying?”

“Ever since Barnes went MIA my sister had been hanging around you. I never really thought about it at first. But when her studio suffered, always a cash short, closed shop and went on a four-month vacation. Then suddenly this whole garage materializes. I can't help but wonder.” Natasha asked with anger, her fists tightened at her side.

Her question took Steve off guard. “What are you implying?” He asked carefully.

Steve took a slow breath and hauled back his temper. _Natasha had come to make his life hell. And she just picked the right moment. _

“You better get your facts straight. I bought this garage with my own blood and sweat. And Nick can vouch for that.”

“But a little extra money won't hurt, will it?”

Natasha was pure attitude. The edgy way she looked at a man, as though sizing up his worth and honor...what made him tick. She was a petite five feet five. Fiery red hair and piercing green eyes. With a tight athletic body. Hands on her hip and the way she shifts as if ready for a fight. Lifting a jaw that challenged him. She had done that the first day he had met her at the gym.

She’d been dressed with a red sweater and jeans and sneakers. She just came in from New York and on a vacation leave from Stark Industries. And he just started his training with Nick.

“Who’s this?” Natasha had asked as if Nick had dragged in a discarded thrash.

“That is my boyfriend’s best friend.” Wanda had said unevenly.

“I told you about him. We’ve been dating for three years now. But it seems you weren't listening.”

“Oh, I know about Barnes. But this?” She eyed the blonde Adonis whose been sparring with Nick.

And that was the time Steve knocked Fury down his feet. Natasha quickly stated “You go easy on the old guy. Messed him up and I’ll have your hide.”

“Maybe, I'd like that.” He smirked. “You having it. I mean.”

Natasha had an attitude that just made a man want to strip it away. To see what she looked like when she’s needing him. To see what happens when she didn't know what to do next because she is always in control.

But then a man wanted to do a lot of things to Natasha. She could cut a man down to the bone when he stepped into her wrong side. But he saw the look of love when it came to her family. On the surface, she’s single minded, strong and career bound. Steve had this fascination towards her for years. The reason why his relationship with Peggy was short lived. He found her mesmerizing. Her strength and dedication. The sisters were not alike. Wanda didn't have a temper and avoided confrontation. Gentle and loving. But Natasha could hold her own, blending brains with fury.

Steve wasn't exactly certain about the way Natasha looked at him outside. He hadn’t missed the quickened breath when he touched her, the way her eyes had glanced at his chest and the telling blush on her cheeks…Natasha never blushed.

He hadn't thought seeing her again would get to him. Her accusations on him left him raw and angry. But he too was riding on an emotional edge because he hadn't been able to help Wanda.

Tonight, with emotions riding each of them, they could validate each other’s opinion towards the other.

“Okay, Nat. do your worse.”


	2. Chapter 2

Steve moved to a massive desk. Papers cluttering the surface. A computer screen plastered with sticky notes. Various auto parts topped the stacks in the other corner. He sat on his chair, pushed back the rollers, and raised both feet to rest on top of it. His sneakers were almost worn.

Natasha avoided looking at the bared chest. Instead looked around the small room, wanted to remember every single detail. A Big Chill refrigerator hummed in the background. Adding to the sound of the rain beating on the metal roof. An old school bus bench, and the mixed-breed boxer sitting on a tattered rug who started gnawing a knotted bone.

“Take your time. I’ve been waiting for this...imagine that, you—here with me. Coming after me so to speak. Steve reached lazily for an old rumpled white shirt lying on top of the desk, tugged it over his head; the shirt had several holes. “Does this, make you more comfortable?” He asked in a rich sultry drawl that caused the hair on her nape to lift.

“As if that’s going to affect me.” She stated curtly. The mixed-breed boxer studied Natasha with a tilt of his head. 

When the lightning flashed at the windows, the dog’s head raised with one-pointed ear straight up; his chestnut and white fur seemed to ripple over his body. His growl was low and dangerous. Steve spoke softly, almost gently, “it’s okay, boy. It’s alright.”

Steve turned to study Natasha. “Are you ready yet? Or are you just going to stand there holding your blouse and trying to forget that I saw the lace underneath? That must have really cost plenty, Sorry about the blouse...and the shoes. He added, but his tone said he didn’t really care. 

“You need to be sorry. Sorry about Wanda.”

“I am.” he agreed solemnly.

“You should have done something.”

His silence echoed in the cluttered office, punctuated with the abrupt roll of thunder. He reached to one of the drawers and drew out a bottle of whiskey. He splashed some of the amber liquid into a mug and lifted it to Natasha. When she shook her head, Steve lifted the mug and drank deeply, his strong throat working. He sat the mug down with a quiet thud.

“The investigators said it’s suicide. Found her in bed with an empty flask and more than 20 pills of Imitrex. holding on to a note... Wanda would never kill herself. Not that she tried before...I think it was an accident. She always drank too much, though. It’s her coping mechanism, to drown out all the pain.” He said grimly.

“She didn't tell me until a few months ago. I came over one afternoon. As usual, she passed out on the couch. Nick can no longer handle her. she’s as stubborn as you are. Seeing his daughter wilting away...he gave me the spare keys to the house so I could check in on her once in a while. Picked her up for her weekly therapy sessions made sure she’s sober and never miss an appointment. That night, Clint and I sat down with her. Like a damn intervention. We told her she better stops drinking and to let you know what’s happening. She freaked out. I never saw her that messed up before. She made us swore not to tell you and that she will come clean to you. “he sighed.

Steve was studying her closely, seeing Natasha uncertain and wary.

“She went through a difficult time and I wasn't there for her...I never knew it was that bad. we are aware of her depression. that’s why Nick and I decided she needs therapy. And from one of the best. Alexander Pierce came highly recommended.” She said in deep thought.

“The fact that you hated me so much is because your sister opened up to me more than to you. Trusted me more. I protected her. I gave my word to Bucky that I will look out for her. So, now Who are you really mad at? Me? Or you?”

The impact took her breath away. “Go to hell, Rogers.”

He smiled tightly and stood. “Is that the best thing that you can do? Oh, that’s right, you work on top of that ugly Stark tower in New York. With your fancy suits and dinner galas. All nice and clean in an executive office. Away from this gutter. you were living with some upscale doctor. No offense to the guy, whom I think was even too good for you— so why don’t you get your lovely ass on a plane get back to New York, get married, raise kids and focus on your damn career and leave me the hell alone!”

Steve didn't like someone telling him what he already knew. He had failed Bucky and Wanda. He tried to fight their battles, protect them but it seemed that they both took the same path. it was beyond his control.

And now, when she had barely spoken to him in all those years, Natasha was all laying the blame. “So, what do you need? Maybe you should have taken more time with her. That’s what’s really going on here? Isn't it?”

Before she can even recover, Steve added, “who are you really? Once I saw this person who is full of love towards her family. And now this, expensive suit and all. She worshipped you, Nat. Looked up to you. She wanted to be strong like you. She came up to you three years ago, but you're just too busy. And now you decided to clean your conscience?” 

Natasha moved across the short distance without knowing it. He looked down at the fist she’d wrapped in his shirt and the dog growled warningly. “It’s alright, Dodger. Sit.”

the dog plopped his butt down. sitting close to Steve, edging between him and Natasha.

Above her head, Steve breathed heavily and murmured a husky.” Anytime you want to hit me, think about the consequences.”

When the phone began to ring. It continued without the aid of a message machine.” Aren’t you going to pick that up? What kind of business doesn't have an answering machine?” she said irritated. The telephone stopped ringing. “Oh, I really do have a need to hit you. “she stated.

Natasha let go of Steve and resigned herself to the worn-out chair across his desk.

“Did she talk to you about her sessions? “she asked. 

“She never talks about it. I have to pull everything out of her. She was afraid of something.”

“Of what?”

“I don't know. She just kept saying ghost and to find Bucky. That sister of yours can be cryptic sometimes.” he shrugged.

“Then let’s find out what or who spooked my sister Rogers. Because I know she will never hurt herself. I think she was forced.”

Now that the cold and wet blouse won over the physical and verbal battle, she shuddered.

Steve opened the lower drawer and took out a lacy black bra and baby doll shirt. He discarded the bra on the bench and handed her the shirt.

“Eww, that’s disgusting. “she snapped back.

“Either this or the flu? Your choice. It’s washed and it’s clean.” he rolled his eyes.

She grabbed the shirt, turned around, and grimly peeled away her wet blouse and bra.

Natasha didn't like the curve of Steve’s lips as he sat on his chair and poured another whiskey in the mug and running his thumb over the rim, studying her. “You’re enjoying this, aren't you? She asked as she straightened the shirt. Steve’s expression has changed. Blue eyes lingered on her chest and then to her lips. “This is not an X Rated video.” 

“Ever watched one?” Steve asked curiously.

“Have you?” She drew a smug smile.

He stood slowly, walking toward her. She is not the type who would back down so she stepped forward, held her chin up. He reached to smooth her hair behind her ear, his fingers sliding to trace the small gold hoop in her ear before she thrust his hand away. “I want you to know that I still hate you.” 

“Are you finish? Or there’s still more? “he asked quietly as he stuck his hands in his jean pockets. 

“I need to go. “she said.

Steve started to walk out of the office and towards his apartment upstairs. He stopped and patted his thigh, “C’mon Boy.” Dodger stopped staring at Natasha then trotted to him. “Call someone to pick you up, and make sure the door on the fence is closed when you leave. I’ll lock it electronically after you.”

—————————————————————-

Once outside, she began to shiver. the rain has stopped. A lamp post across the street provided little illumination. Seconds later headlights from a Jeep cut into the night.

“Hey.” Natasha climbed into the passenger seat.

“I’ve been trying to call you on your cell phone. Nick’s been worried. There’s a storm coming in. Laura and the kids are waiting for you, they think it’s a good idea for a slumber party. so, we packed, and the little devils are now already raising havoc at The Gym. I called up here but no one answered. And Nick said to try again because the way you've been looking at Steve at the funeral it looks like you’re on a mission to destroy him. And then you called. Where the hell is your damn cell phone anyway?” Clint demanded. 

“I don't have time for this Clint.” She really doesn't have the strength to argue with him right now. 

“You could have at least given us a heads up.” Clint eyeing her up and down. “And you look like shit, what happened?”

“Wow, thank you so much for caring.” She snorted.

“We already went through this a long time ago. Nat, He is not the enemy here. Steve went through hell for Wanda. We all did. We’re all guilty one way or the other. I got caught up with family life that I didn't saw beyond the pretend smiles. I thought she was already recovering.

Each sat wrapped in their own thoughts. Until they pulled through the driveway on the side of the lot. It is a modest and well-tended home. Even though it’s right above a dance studio and gym.

In contrast to the everyday activity below. The Fury residence is well kept. It had a feminine vintage feel. the color is softer and the pastel-painted kitchen speaks of warmth and comfort.

Wanda loves to cook for family and friends so weekends are something to look forward to.

Nick is proud of her girls. Photos are scattered all over the house from the day they first arrived, skinny and full of wonder to college diplomas hanging in the hallway. The sisters think it's absurd but he calls it, his graffiti wall. 

When climbing up the steps they were greeted with three rambunctious kids. Laura prepared dinner. Opened a bottle of wine. Nick was waiting with a worried frown.

Nick is a guy who is not burdened by the weight of the world. Who knew how to laugh at himself. Someone who is dedicated and loyal. He still has the stamina to kick anyone’s ass, especially when it comes to his daughters. But in the recent event, He became quiet and reflective.

“You’re cold and chilled. And you did exactly what I told you not to do,” he said.

“I’m fine, Nick”

“Hey, Nat. Why don't you clean up and take a hot shower so you won't catch a cold? I’ll go warm up some soup for you.” Laura asked Natasha as she hugged her.

Natasha moved down the hallway to her old bedroom. Where she once shared with Wanda until she was old enough to get a room of her own. 

On the dresser was a picture of her and Wanda right after her graduation from NYU. They hung out with her college friends at a bar and celebrated. _“Don’t forget this night Nat, when were both wasted and the old man can never ground us.” _As memories churned around her—she was so carefree. full of life.

As she stripped for her shower, she stepped in the glass cubicle. she used the lavender shampoo and body wash. They always keep a supply of ‘home -stuff’ for vacation emergencies. and she thought about her conversation with Steve. What did drove her sister to claim her life? The thought of Wanda trusting Steve more than she fueled her anger. She scrubbed thoroughly, trying to wipe away the memory on how he’d looked at her.

Natasha opened the glass door and toweled dry quickly. She contemplated on the baby doll shirt; how many women have spent the night at his place? to leave personal mementos such as this. might as well burn this one, I’m sure it’s not going to be missed. 

She was tying the strings of her sweatpants on the way to the kitchen. And sat down at the table and started on her soup. She loved being home. Having the kids over. Barton’s lounging away on the living room playing monopoly. Nick with his crossword puzzles. It may have been better if it were in a different circumstance. Wanda would be serving desserts by now… 

“Mail came in for you today. it doesn't have a return address but it’s from out of town.” Nick said while handing over a manila envelope, breaking her reverie.

Natasha opened it and upon seeing its loopy script on a lined yellow paper, she held it to her tightly. “It’s from Wanda.” Her hands shook as she read the letter… “Hi, Nat. Please don't hate me for this. I’m already missing you and Nick. You both are the best thing that ever happened to me.

Life goes on…but I guess, not for me. I don't want you to blame yourself. I chose this path. Ever since James died. my world ceased to exist. He was my everything. He was my lifeline. And I can’t wait to be with him. I have discovered things Nat…and I’m sorry I can't be more.”

Natasha swallowed the emotion tightening around her throat and continued reading: “I have a big favor to ask of you. Don’t sell the house. The mortgage has been paid and I hate to see it sold to some weird family. James and I worked hard on the renovations. And Nick would kill you, knowing it was his wedding present. If you don't want to live in it, convert it to a bed and breakfast that way you’ll profit. As for the studio, can you keep it running till you can find someone to take over? The kids enjoy their lessons. Maybe you can teach Nat. You're a brilliant dancer.

And I know you don’t like Steve but try to understand that he was my friend. Show him some kindness. Give Clint and Laura a hug for me. Later, Wanda.”

“What did she say, Nat?” Clint had been behind her as she read the letter.

Natasha carefully folded the letter and pressed it to her heart. where her sister would always be. 

“Wanda just asked me to move back home.” She whispered.

—————————————————

After two months since Wanda’s death, Gossip has been running like wildfire through Fort Morgan that the prodigal daughter was moving back to town and will be teaching at Wanda’s Studio. 

” I think every little girl in town is excited that Nat’s teaching ballet again. I missed seeing her dance. I think it’s always been a passion for her and not that corporate work in New York. She’s still looking for an art teacher. Hey, didn’t you go to an Art school? I’ve seen your drawings and I think, they’re pretty good. Maybe you should apply.” Clint’s cheerful chatter ran to that and him setting up a farm that would be open to the public where kids can feed animals. 

They were at Roger’s Classics; tuning up an old Corvette that Nick asked him to check. it’s been parked in their garage for quite some time now.

He smiled lightly and answered, “Sure, you think that’s a good idea? Me and her in a confined space—working together. She’s going to skin me alive, Barton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for you're warm response and comments. I would love to hear from you again. x hope you enjoy this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

“But how is she, anyway?” Steve asked.

“Her ex-boyfriend called. While she was having dinner with us and things sounded rough. She took some food at Wanda’s house. She decided to pack up some of her sister’s personal stuff. And she brought her cat, Harry. the poor thing is not too happy about the move.” Clint chuckled. “Well, I got to go. I still have to pick up the kids from school.”

Outside, the afternoon was serene. and once in a while, a truck would pass— a farmer bringing home feed, cars coming in and out of town, tourists heading to the beaches or nearby cafes and restaurants.

The old oscillating fan purred softly, and Dodger sensing that his master is in a brooding mood came to lay his head on Steve’s thigh. The apartment behind his office was pretty quiet; since Natasha’s attack on him.

He’d rubbed his chest where Natasha had planted that unwanted ache. The need to see her again, to see her light up, to see her eyes darken as they had when she’d looked at his chest. The air simmering between them.

Through the years, Natasha may have had dates and boyfriends, but she hadn’t married. She’d lived with her fiancé, but as far as Steve knew, there wasn’t anyone in her life.

One thing about her is that she always lands on her feet. She couldn’t wait to get away after high school—went to a big college, made a name for herself, and graduated summa cum laude…landed a New York hotshot job. Steve reluctantly admitted that he’d always been proud of her.

He’d almost gotten her out of his system when she’d turn into him two months ago.

Dodger whined softly, as he seemed to understand. He scratched his ears.

Tomorrow, he’d bring home a beauty. a classy Chevrolet, Corvette.

A new breather, a bit of patching rough spots, popping out the dents, paint and she’d be purring again.

As he went to the stockroom to check his parts for inventory, Steve wondered what it would take to make Natasha purr. “Things are going to get really interesting with her around, Boy.” He said to the mix breed following close to his heels. “She’s got a way of stirring things up.”

————————————————-

“Are you sure you want to stay there? You could always check in tomorrow morning. Maybe you could bring Laura and the kids to help with the packing.” Nick said over the telephone.

“It’s okay. I’ll call later and I’ll lock the doors if you’re so worried.” After ending the call, Natasha worked feverishly, emptying drawers, cabinets, folding clothes. Inside the bathroom, the small plastic trash can was heaped with empty bottles. Few were legitimate pharmacy bottles, but most were plain white labels with Wanda’s handwriting.

The open windows helped take the scent from the rooms and into the chilly night air. Moths drawn to the light fluttered to the screens. As she slid aside the mirrored doors of the closet. A strong cedar scent swept out of her.

Sitting inside the closet are piles and piles of boxes. The top were shoes, bags, hats.

Even some of Barnes's clothes and military paraphernalia were neatly ordered.

The other boxes held Natasha’s letters, little high school mementos like corsages, teenage jewelry, stationery, and postcards.

Another box held business papers, copies of cash deposits, Barnes's military records.

Natasha carefully folded the papers and placed them into their envelopes.

Dislodge by her rummaging, purses, and folding clothing tumbled down. A cedar board ran from the shelf to the ceiling, held in place by heavier blocks on either end. she noted the absence of nails on the other end. Natasha drew up a chair and using a sturdy metal letter opener, she gently pried the wood. It came free and when Natasha lifted it away, there was another box standing on end. She eased it out and opened the tightly sealed plastic lid. Inside, was obviously a cherished collection of scrapbook materials. Beneath it, was a scrapbook.

Natasha held her breath, as she opened the scrapbook. Inside were family pictures, and Wanda’s careful notes, love wrapped in every word. Her wedding photos, tickets to a cinema where her sister had her first date with the Sgt. a rare photo of her and Steve at the wedding. Being the best man and maid of honor.

The other pages contained photos and dedication to her Studio. Her students, little children who came to learn how to dance, paint, draw, and who just came in to enjoy expressing themselves. Natasha held the scrapbook to her chest. “This is the heart of you. What you loved so deeply. Oh, Wanda. You were so wonderful. Why didn’t you believe that?”

But for some reason, Wanda had kept it hidden and safe. Natasha placed it inside the box and eased it back into the closet. “See you later, Wanda.”

The house was too quiet and Natasha held very still, listening, waiting for Wanda to speak. “I promise to do my best, Wanda.”

At the windows, the white fringes of the white curtains moved eerily. “Wanda?”

Natasha let the nuances curl around her. “I feel you, Wanda. You’re still, here aren't you? Waiting. What is it that you’re trying to tell me?”

The echo of her voice skittered around the empty house; she was alone. But it was heavy with the sense of the woman who once lived there...of a couple who dreamed of starting a family… Natasha felt the tears burning in her eyes.

Natasha closed the closet, questions running in her mind. As she looked at her reflection, Harry the big gray tomcat had strolled inside. His tail high and crooked at the end. His big yellow eyes staring right at her. It leaned against her calf, rubbing himself on her.

She reached down and hauled him up close, hugging him and carried him towards the kitchen. She pulled the tab on a can of food and bent to place it in his favorite dish. Harry came down. Natasha stood, watching her cat eat.

A beam of light pierced the kitchen window and moved around the ceiling as a car honked.

Natasha walked to the front door, jerked it open, and stared at Steve leaning against his Tacoma. “I thought we’d do this right, “he called up to Natasha.

She hadn’t gone to see him since she arrived and braced herself before calling to him, “I’ll be right down.”

Steve hefted the insulated cooler behind his truck. “Wine coolers. Everyone's favorite kind. Drink up.”

Steve handed Natasha a bottle and lifted it. “To Wanda and Bucky. May they rest in peace. May we keep them in our hearts and remember them.”

“To Wanda and Bucky,” they said in unison.

The silence between them, as they both stared into the beach. The waves pounding furiously against the jutting rocks and sands. The salty mist, the wind with its haunting sound. It’s almost dusk, but you can still see children playing. Gathering seashells with their parents. “They both loved this place. They've built their dreams here. And I can't believe they’re gone. And now she left it all to me.” She whispered.

Steve studied Natasha “Did you ever wondered if things were different? If they're both be here having drinks with us. With little kids running around. If you stayed and we could have been friends? “he asked.

“What are you doing, Rogers? “she demanded as she faced him.

He was leaning against the Tacoma, his arms folded across his chest. Dodger sat beside his sneakers. Steve slowly took in her sweatshirt and jeans. “I heard from Clint, that you're opening The Studio. And I would like to volunteer as an Art teacher and see where this whole thing, leads us. “he said.

“Volunteer? I’d be happy to pay your wage. I’m not comfortable being in debt to you.” Natasha briskly rubbed her jeans.

“Okay. It’s a deal then. When can I sign? And I have a flexible schedule so you don't need to worry about a conflict. I can manage. and most people would be sleeping off that long trip from New York, not housecleaning. “he grinned.

“For some reason, my sister has kept things from me. And now gone, she’s trying to tell me something…And who knows, we might even discover what really happened to Barnes. Don’t worry, I'll save you all that fire and brimstone that you so love about me.” She hissed.

Steve shrugged and lifted and an eyebrow. “Well, good night then.” He picked up Dodger, placed him into the Tacoma. In a lithe movement, he swung up and closed the door.

“I’ll be seeing you, Nat.” He took a long-promised look at her, then started the vehicle, reversed, and eased across the street, leaving her all charged up.

———————————————

_Had he gotten everything that could tie him to Wanda and Barnes. To what they did to them. To her...He hadn't found the doll she’d used against him, casting spells, driving him insane. Activities that made him feel like a God… _worry that his secret, his life would be exposed, changed into fury at Wanda. He was her master and she’d defied him by taking an exit that stirred the community.

She had no business in taking her life— it was mine. It’s her fault. She tempted me. Lured me into evil, tempted me. All I'm asking is her obedience. He had worked for it in years. Years of perfection. Of making a name for himself. Her habits, none of it was my fault. She was weak.

He built his rage, feeding it as he drove slowly past her house. He knew that Natasha was back in town. And she was trouble. She is driven by her desire to succeed in everything. Nick Fury may have been blinded to see the truth but nothing passed this redhead.

_What had Wanda told her sister?_

Years ago, Wanda had decided to make a new life for herself. But circumstances lead her to uncover the mystery towards her husband’s disappearance. She couldn't have that happen and she was thorough with her research. she was devastated when she found out. making sure that the people who did it would pay…But he made good on his threats. To harm her family. He’d enjoyed planning his attack. Telling Wanda all about it. Threatening her until she’s compliant again. She threatened to expose him. Until she simply didn't care anymore.

_“If you hurt my family, I’ll haunt you forever.” _She had said during the last years.

He looked outside the house. “Well, dear Wanda, if your sister poses a problem for me. I will hurt her, and that is a promise...I have to find that doll...it wasn't anywhere when she died. Maybe she got rid of it—a sneaky little witch. It exists. I know it does because she showed it to me. She cast a spell and things are—different with me.”

The hair on the back of his neck lifted as he thought of Wanda’s fierce threat— “_I’ll haunt you forever.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are welcome. :)


	4. Chapter 4

The fog had rolled into Fort Morgan, settling damply, blurring the lights of the businesses downtown. Natasha sat in a neat small office and set to work on forming a realistic picture of her sister’s business. She started early in the morning and had shared a sweet roll and coffee with Nick that somehow run into lunch at Coulson’s Diner.

She’d worked again the next day, marking down schedules between Art classes and ballet. More or less, thirty kids were enrolled. There were about twenty kids for the Art class and ten for ballet. Which, she thinks is perfect. so, it would allow more time for her to do research and investigate her sister’s death.

By six o clock, Nick’s been barbecuing and had a delicious home-cooked meal.

She continued to work till ten when she decided to walk over to Barton’s for a nightcap.

Natasha picked up Harry and placed him inside the carrier.

She began walking the four blocks to Clint’s. In the distance, the waves pounded the shore. As she stepped off the curb of the second block and about to cross the street, a cold tingle hit her, as if someone was watching her. “It’s just the wind, Harry. I’m not being stalked.” She reassured herself.

Her heart stilled. When she heard a sound behind her, like footsteps that stopped when she did. She walked faster, across the damp red bricks that gleamed from the streetlights.

In the middle of Porter’s Lane, she walked slowly and listened to the sounds of the night: the ocean, a car passing by, and the footsteps surely following her…

She turned suddenly, and a shadow crossed. She couldn't move, transfixed by the man coming closer. “Who is it?”

Brock Rumlow’s narrow face appeared to loom over her. He was dressed in sweat pants and a T-shirt and the unshaven jaw giving him a tough appearance. “I didn't mean to frighten you. I was out walking and I guess, we're going in the same direction.”

Natasha breathed slowly, trying to calm herself. “Hi, Brock.”

He studied her quietly. “Hi, Nat. So, you’re really back. We never had the chance to talk. I’m sorry about Wanda. She was special. A soul that warms the heart. I thought I would give her something she needed…I hope I did and I can still feel her sometimes.”

Natasha touched his arm and found him shaking. “Hey, I saw you at the funeral. I didn't know you were friends. I’m glad you came. Nick and I appreciate it.”

“She was easy to love. Warm and friendly. You’re different. You’re strong. But sometimes we need people to ease our grief.” He smiled and placed his hand over hers. Caressed her knuckles. “I would welcome the chance if you need it.” 

“It’s late. I guess I’ll see you around.” She shook as she turned and moved away slowly, half expecting that he would follow. She took a deep breath and inhaled the fog. She walked faster.

Her hands were shaking, as she knocked on the door. Barely, holding on to Harry’s carrier.

The door opened. And suddenly Clint’s bright smile at Natasha died instantly. He drew her into the house, the familiar hallway lined with family photos and children’s toys scattered as you walk by. Natasha shivered slightly, trying to wrap the familiar safety around her.

Clint closed the door. “What’s wrong? You look scared.”

She didn't want them to worry. Especially footsteps and a man walking behind the shadows. This town is the place where she grew up. And she will not be exposed to fear. “I’m just out of breath. Harry can be heavy in his carrier for any distance.”

“Hey, Steve is almost done with Widow’s tune-up. I can drop it over to your place tomorrow morning.” Clint patted Natasha’s head. “What’s going on?”

“Did Brock Rumlow frequent The Gym and do you know anything about him and Wanda being friends?” Natasha asked.

“Since I've been busy renovating the old farm, I haven't got the chance to visit The Gym. I heard, he trained under Nick four times a week. Especially if there’s an upcoming fight. But I haven't seen him around Wanda. Why?” Clint said.

“It’s nothing. I was just thinking... Can I crash in here for the night? I don't mind taking the couch.” Natasha looked around the familiar living room.

“Are you kidding me? Laura will be delighted. You can use the spare bedroom like you and Wanda always do.” Clint smiled.

—————————————————-

“That should have been locked.”

In the predawn light, the street lamps provided a backlit to Natasha’s silhouette. Casting it at The Studio’s large windows. She slipped the keys into her tote bag and gripped the heavy brass handle of the front door. She tested it again and it opened easily. “I locked this last night.” 

Inside the dim recesses of the parlor, amidst the large mirrors; a slice of light came from the opened office door. “And I definitely turned off the lights.”

Natasha eased open the heavy front door and stepped inside. She placed Harry’s carrier on the floor and stood still, listening...The building was too quiet, seeming to wait for her, she had that same sense at Wanda’s house. As if her sister’s waiting for her…

“This isn't funny, Wanda,” Natasha whispered, as she bent to open Harry’s carrier.

Harry streaked under a drafting table. Harry didn't like Fort Morgan, the minute they arrived. In fact, he didn't like anyone except for Clint’s kids. “Coward” 

Taking a deep breath, Natasha slowly walked towards the office. “I might as well deal with this. I can’t keep running towards Clint and Laura’s home or get the police at the first sign of problems. I was so tired the past few days getting this business to run again. Maybe I didn't lock up as I should have…”

If someone has unlocked the door, they’d use a key. “It’s four in the morning, nobody comes in that early. Maybe I’m just stressed and tired and thinking of Wanda too much. On the other hand, I might get new locks.”

She placed the flat of her hands on the office door and it creaked, as she pushed it open. Everything looked the same. The stack of ledgers on the corner of the desk, the one that she’s feeding into her laptop’s spreadsheets. But the yellow note pad, that she placed beside it, had been moved on top of the bank statements and bills. Natasha sat down, opened the laptop, turned it on, and waited for it to come to life.

She keyed her password and checked the spreadsheets that she’s been working on.

Natasha sat back and stared at the screen. She opened her other programs, looking for evidence of someone prowling. Everything seemed untouched. 

‘I can’t prove anything, Harry, but I’d say someone’s been through this desk. I worked on that drawer files, sorting them and they were all level, not at different heights.”

Harry came to rub around her legs and she lifted him unto her lap. His claws dug into her jeans as she was petting him. “Very interesting, Harry. I think we have a prowler. And he used a key. Mmm.” 

Tucking Harry under her arm, Natasha carried him and they went to the other section of the building. The Artist’s studio. And there stood, Steve Rogers’s tall body hovering over boxes, stacking some art supplies. Paintbrushes in hand.

Natasha put down Harry. leaned against the wall, watched as Dodger and Harry go through their growling, hissing thing before Dodger dropped his jowls to his paws and stared at Harry, who rolled over onto his back, confidently teasing the dog, and Dodger growled softly.

“Stay” At Steve’s order, the dog gave a disgruntled “woof” and settled for staring at the cat.

Steve looked at Natasha. In a tight blue shirt, jeans and battered work boots. His jaw was dark with stubble, his hair mussed. He looked as if he hadn't slept.

“Don’t you think, you’re too early?” She said.

“I thought, I could start early. The door was unlocked.” He circled around some easels.

“Yes, well anyone could come in then, right? Say a prowler? Someone looking for something. Someone with a key who could come and go as they pleased.”

“If you say so.” He shrugged and placed the brushes on the container beside the easels. When he neared her, Natasha noted the raw places on his knuckles.” Been in a fight?”

She came close to get a look on his right hand, there was a long scratch on it. Steve glanced at her and there was a dark bruise on his cheekbone.

“Nope.” He moved around to avoid her. “What makes you think so?”

“Your knuckles are skinned. That looks like a bruise on your cheek. And you smell like...have you been drinking?” 

“Why, I didn't know you cared. You smell, really good by the way. I like the get-up. Tight jeans, t-shirt, no makeup, your hair braided. You look cute and sexy, just as you did when you were here on college vacations. Especially when you washed that Corvette and your shirt would get wet and— I used to come in really early at The Gym before. so, I could see you bend over.” Steve smirked.

Natasha fought the blush rising to her cheeks and faced him squarely. She refused to be embarrassed by him. “That happens. No need to elaborate.”

Steve smiled easily as he bent to pick up some boxes. “Always ready to believe the worst, huh, Nat? Like maybe I was in a bare-knuckle fight or worked someone over.”

“Anyway, what were you looking out here for, last night?”

He frowned slightly, looked squarely at her. “I wasn’t here.”

“Sure… I locked up when I left and the door was unlocked this morning. I know Nick gave you a spare key to the house maybe you also got a set for The Studio. I want the keys, Steve. There’s no need for you to have a spare.”

She watched him walk towards her. He was too close now, forcing her to look up as she backed against the wall. As he braced his body inches from hers. Steve’s hand flattened beside her head. His eyes followed his finger as it smoothed a tendril behind her ear, then strolled down, on her cheek. Deep blue eyes locked with hers. “What are you going to do? Nick gave me the key to watch over Wanda. And I’m not taking chances, Nat. Not with you. I want to be able to reach you anytime. And I did not, repeat did not come in here last night.”

Steve was lazily studying her lips. His eyes moved up to hers and frowned, that sensual look replaced by intent concern. “You’re shivering. What’s wrong?” 

“I…” Natasha couldn’t tell him about her previous encounter with Rumlow.

She thrust out her hand and hit his chest and he tensed. “Your hands are ice cold, Nat.” Steve studied her and pushed away, backing several feet from her. He ran his hands across his chest. “I wasn’t here last night. I swear. I wouldn’t try to spook you. Do you really think that someone was in here?”

Natasha crumpled at one of the benches, her arms folded around herself. She believed him; Steve would never lie to her. “Yes, I do. Someone rummaged through the desk, tapped into my computer and I’m afraid whoever it is, may have a key to the house.”

Steve’s expression hardened, the lines bracketing his mouth deepened.

“Someone is looking for something. What do you think they were after? Steve asked.

“I don’t know why; someone would come in here at night. There’s nothing here. She never kept cash here either. But don’t tell Nick and Clint. I don’t want them to be worried.” Natasha said.

Steve walked over to the table where paint bottles and brushes were scattered. Got his bag and pulled out a thermos bottle. A slice of morning sunlight cut through the windows as he sat beside her and poured steaming hot coffee into the plastic cup. Handing it to her. “Drink”

Harry hurried to the bench, leaping up beside Steve. The tomcat purred loudly, rubbing against him, and instantly Dodger was on his paws, hurrying to growl at the cat. “Down, Boy,” Steve ordered quietly and he plopped his bottom down, but showed his teeth at the cat. 

Harry laid down his front paws on Steve’s thigh. When he petted him, he leaned into his big hand and purred louder. Dodger whined softly, inching closer.

Steve reached to ease the dog away, to the side where Harry was lying on the bench. Dodger stuck his muzzle in the cat’s face, then as if disgusted, walked out the open door.

The coffee was bitter. She couldn’t believe she was sitting next to Steve, actually drinking from a cup, that he had probably used. Intimacy and sharing something Steve’s disturbing lips had touched weren’t on her list of planned activities. Nor was letting him see her fear. “Well, thanks for the coffee. I better get ready for today’s opening.” She smiled lightly and stood abruptly. Her cheeks were rosy.

Steve leaned back, his arms crossed behind his head, and allowed his legs to stretch out, framing hers as she stood in front of him. Natasha looked pointedly down to where his legs closed against hers.” I’m not going to ask you to let me go.”

“Well, how long do you think you can stand there?” He just enjoyed seeing Natasha’s composure skitter and changed into real emotions. When he purposely studied his breasts, she blushed and Steve couldn’t help grinning up at her. He touched her hot cheek. “Now, that is some reaction for a woman who is not interested.”

“Stop it. You might as well get your ass to work Rogers.”

“Oh, you love this ass, I caught you twice staring at it.” He stood slowly, allowing his body to come close to hers. Leaning down, to look into those green eyes. His hands opened on her waist, slid just a fraction to lock onto her hips and the air between them stilled, then quiver. She was soft and curved in the right places and she smelled like sweet jasmine. Those green eyes were filled with him as heartbeats pounded. Steve couldn’t stop his fingers from digging in, kneading that softness.

He had never been this close to her, his instincts are humming, his body hard. His hands move slowly higher to frame her rib cage.

He was bending, to taste that slightly opened mouth, to taste her for the first time when the nudge of something hard and blunt touched him in a very vulnerable place.

Steve looked down, to see a long-handled paintbrush, placed between his upper thighs. “Mm. interesting.”

“Yes, isn’t it?”

“You think that could stop me from kissing you?”

“I think it might”

He smiled. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Nat. You sure know, how to spoil a mood.” 

She looked meaningfully. "Looks like, the mood's still there, Rogers.”

She was right; his body was humming, taut, and full of the need for her. Steve knew he could disarm her, but instead, he lifted his hands away.

Steve then walked out of the door, called Dodger, and got into the Tacoma. Harry hopped up on the running board and then into the front seat beside Dodger. Steve didn’t hesitate; he started the vehicle and drove back to his shop. If Natasha wanted her cat, she’d have to come and get him. 

The thought of Natasha coming to him, all fired up, caused Steve to smile.

Then, he glanced in the mirror at his reflection, unshaven, worn-out jeans and eyes blurred from welding and exhaustion. “I’m going to make myself appealing.” He said to Dodger and Harry.

Steve looked at where his dog and Natasha’s cat sat together on the seat as if they were old chums. “Well, I guess the game is on.” He said as he reached to his mobile phone and punch in The Studio’s auto-dial number. 

“Hello. The Studio will not open till nine in the morning. Please leave a message.”

Natasha’s professional tone caused him to smile.

“You are supposed to have those answering machines. The ones that beep. How about dinner tonight? You know, dinner out, or an intimate candlelight one at my place? I’ll move the carburetor and open the fold-able kitchen table, open a can of beer and grill some hotdogs and onions.”

Her gasp caused his smile to widen. “No, thanks. Goodbye.” She said then the line clicked off.

“Always a lady.” Steve murmured dryly as Harry came purring onto his lap. “And with an attitude.”

He rubbed the cat’s ears. “I appreciate a woman with an attitude. But she’s likely to get into trouble.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the late update. real life happened. It was a bit hard to write this chapter. I'm not good with writing fluff or smut. Lol.  
I promise to finish this story before the year ends. Thank you for reading. x

After Steve’s early morning visit. Natasha had worked hard. A locksmith from Brock’s Handy Hardware came to replace The Studio’s front locks and, on the house, adding a deadbolt each. several people had stopped by, Clint drove her old Corvette from Steve’s garage. “Steve specializes in these old cars. The widow was in good hands. and now, look at her purr.” Clint chuckled.

At eleven, Laura and the kids brought lunch. It was only then that she noticed Harry wasn’t around. he didn’t like intruders. Natasha thought he was just hiding. She noticed he didn’t touch his food and his litter box remained clean and unused. not a hairball insight.

The last time she saw him was early morning –when Steve had left the door open. she didn’t hesitate to call him as she kicked off her black pumps and slid into her comfortable flip flops.

He answered after a few rings and sounded distracted above the metal clang in the background. “Have you seen my cat, Rogers?”

There was a slight pause before he said, “Sure. he’s around here somewhere.”

“I’m coming to get him and I’m in no mood to play games.”

“Suit yourself.” he said, then added softly, “I’ll be waiting.”

“You just do that.”

She showered and dressed, feeling refreshed in a white shirt and jeans. Face void of makeup. She held her breath as she turned the key in Widow’s ignition. it did purr, then she drove down the road towards Rogers Classics.

As she eased Widow next to his Tacoma and walked into the office. It was empty. No one responded to her knock on the apartment door. She circled the big weathered building and found Steve’s recognizable backside and long legs. The rest of him was tucked under the hood of an old black car. On a fender beside him was a thick cloth with an array of tools where Harry sat, sunning on the other fender.

Dodger came running around the car, barked loudly, and planted himself in front of Steve protectively.

“Dodge, hush.”

Steve looked over his shoulder, glanced at Natasha, then went back to work. Harry leaped off the fender and ran deep into a neat street like arrangement of old cars. 

“Harry!” she called desperately.

After half an hour of calling and chasing Harry, who wasn’t going to be caught, Natasha returned to Steve, who was still bent beneath the hood. “You should have called me right away.”

“Your cat walked all over my cars, dug up some flowers that Wanda planted and he doesn’t know that the sand in the ashtray is for cigarette butts. Clean that out before you leave…Hmm, the threads are stripped on the breather—Here, hold this.”

Natasha looked down at the grimy metal in her hands and Steve straightened, wiped his hands on a greasy rag, and looked down at her with those blue eyes. He’d changed, shaved, and smelled like soap. He smelled really good. her mind stopped as he took in her ponytail, the pearl studs in her ears. His lips curved slightly. His gaze moved down to her white shirt, jeans and pink flip flops. She watched in slow motion when he bent to kiss her, just a brush of his lips across hers.

“Hi,” he said softly. “You smell sweet.” he eased the breather from her tight fingers and looked down at the twin grease stains on her shirt.

“Just how did you come to have my cat?” she glared.

He placed the breather on the fender and leaned back against the car and crossed his arms. “Your cat jumped into my rig. He wasn’t invited but he seemed to like it here. You’ve been calling and chasing for half an hour. he comes easily enough to me. What did you do to him anyway?”

Since she had Harry neutered, the grudge was obvious. “Harry gets the best cat food and lots of love. he just has his moments, that’s all. It’s quite typical for cats.”

“I like kissing you.” his eyes locked into her lips and darkened. “You want to do it again?”

Steve’s offered kiss lingered on the oil scented air between them and Natasha wondered what those hard lips would taste like—in a real kiss.

Then the lines beside Steve’s eyes crinkled, the slight curve of his mouth lifted. “You’re blushing.”

Steve was back in form and tormented her as usual. “I don’t have time to stand here, talking to you. I expect you to deliver Harry to me when you catch him.” She turned and was about to leave when he reached out to her.

He ran his open hand across his chest, his eyes narrowed, the planes of his face serious. “I’m sorry, Nat. I just don’t like the thought of you staying in The Studio alone. especially in that house. I won’t be able to forgive myself if something happens to you.” he said.

“Nothing or no one is making me leave that place, nor will I rent it out. not before I find out the truth,” she said.

“I just want you to be safe. Have you thought about installing an alarm system?” he asked.

“A locksmith arrived and changed the locks. Brock also came by,” she said.

“Brock Rumlow? Next time, call me. he has private interests you wouldn’t approve of… Stay away from him.” then Steve walked her out from the big garage.

\-----------------------------------------------

She needed a place to think. Natasha pulled into the wooded parking area for picnickers just off the shoreline highway. As teens, they would often park in the same place then take the narrow path down the beach.

The crimson sunset lay over the swell of rocks against the water. She removed a blanket from the passenger seat and carefully worked her way down the rugged path to an open expanse of sand. the waves slid upon it, and when the froth slid away, it left small worn pebbles in the smooth wet sand.

The beach was empty, the waves crashed against timeless huge black mountains of stone. _Was that how Wanda felt in the end? that she couldn’t change her life or bring back her husband? Why?_

The wind tugged at Natasha’s hair, she pulled it from the sleek ponytail and she shook the rest of it free. The cold crisp salty air matched her mood as she spread her blanket and sat. she wrapped the ends around her.

Memories slid by her. she remembered the first-time Nick brought them here as a family. “This is going to be my special place,” thirteen-year-old Wanda had declared, as she spread her arms wide to the ocean and the world.

“I miss you, Wanda. why did you leave us?” Natasha asked the salty air.

The sun was a bright arc that sat upon the water when she heard a sound and saw a big shadow moved down the path. She instantly recognized the big long body and ass.

Steve spread his blanket next to hers, rolled up his sweater, placed it under his head. then settled back and watched the setting sun.

“Rogers”

“Romanoff”

“Technically, It’s Fury.”

“Yeah. but that would be like talking to Nick,” he smirked.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Watching the sunset. You?”

“Thinking.”

Steve’s hand reached and circled her ankle. his thumb stroked her flesh. “Afraid?”

“Of you? No.”

His hand slid higher to massaged her calf lightly. “If you’re not afraid, then you won't mind sharing this blanket with me, would you?”

It was a challenge and Natasha hated the thought that she was afraid of him. She moved onto his blanket and sat beside him. In a worn flannel shirt and jeans, Steve’s muscled body was relaxed and his heat spread to her, despite the cool wind. “Okay, there. I’m sitting.”

He rolled on his side, braced his head on his hand. “You look good this way, your hair soft around your face, the flush of your cheeks.”

She looked out at the rolling waves. she was aware of his eyes took in her profile—her body.

“This is where Wanda came to brood too. came apart when Bucky went MIA,” he stated firmly.

She leveled to look at him. “I don’t come apart.”

Those blue eyes turned cold. “But then you’re not Wanda. You’re tougher, you always were and that’s what she admired about you. she wanted to be like you. You were hard to live up to. but she tried.”

The need to know her sister’s trials, what drove her so relentlessly, caused Natasha to grip his hand. “Tell me about her. I couldn’t help her,” she said urgently. “I need to know. I need to understand.”

Steve’s hand warm and calloused, his fingers interlaced with hers as he lay down, his eyes closed. Linked, their hands rested on his flat stomach, his broad hand, rough against her own, pressed between his stomach’s heat and the strength of that very masculine hand, hers seemed so feminine, narrow, pale and delicate.

The fascinating difference between her own smaller one and his caused her to breathe slowly, wondering what it would be like if their bodies tangled intimately, light and dark textures, male and female. a season of odd sensations…

“It’s getting cold. Here, put on my sweater,” he said. As he took the rolled pad beneath his head.

“It’s okay, I can manage.” She was cold and shivering and to hide that, she picked up a white smooth pebble and toyed with it. she didn’t understand, why Steve’s hand linked with her, gave her a sense of safety.

His hand over hers rubbed gently. She could have pulled away but was fascinated by the raw power and heat beneath his touch. Natasha wondered if Steve somehow needed soothing and tenderness.

His thumb stroked the back of her hand and the friction caused her to hold very still. She didn’t expect him to be gentle and understanding. the friendship that hovered between them through the years, two different people who shared a common bond. “Nat, just make this easy? no big deal? okay?”

Natasha took the sweater. eased into it and was surprised when Steve lifted her hair free, smoothed it over the garment that held his warmth and scent. She dived into that erotic, spicy scent of his aftershave. Little kept her from nuzzling the sweater with her cheek. “What do you know about her therapy sessions with Alexander Pierce? Did you know that Bucky was also his patient?”

“Uh-huh.” His hand smoothed her back. “You could lie down here beside me. The wind wouldn’t hit you so much then.”

The impulse to do just that startled her. Very aware of the warm hand behind her back. the pleasure of it on her body was too tempting. she knew, if she crossed that sexual line with Steve Rogers, there would be no going back, and she hated that momentary weakness. She looked out at the ocean and relaxed against his hand. “Was there something between Pierce and my sister?”

“Yes, and No,” Steve stated darkly while his hand paused briefly.

“What? How?” she narrowed her eyes.

He tugged her down to his side, Steve turned to her, his head braced on his hand as he looked down at her. “You are not the only one who's looking into your sister’s suicide. I also lost my best friend. I’ve always known something went wrong but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

“If you know that much. Then there’s got to be more,” she said.

He smiled and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his finger returned to her lips, tapped them gently. “You and I are going to handle this. not just you. but Us. I failed to protect Wanda and Bucky. I’m not risking you.”

Natasha watched as Steve’s hand moved down from her shoulder to her hip. She lay down close to him. his heat steeped into her. Too aware of Steve’s impact on her body. she softened, she ached to touch him, Natasha tried to focus on the information she wanted. “Was she—was she sexually abused?”

His expression hardened and he jackknifed into sitting position. Steve picked up a stone and hurled it into the ocean. then drew up one knee and locked his hands around it.

He’d moved so fast that she adjusted the loss of his touch and his heat, the wind cut at her without the protection of his body. Natasha sat up slowly and studied Steve’s furious expression, there was no question of the validity of his emotions, how deep he felt. “Whoever it is, the bastard worked on her mind so much. gotten her feeling like a piece of dirt like she committed some shameful crime. she was so far down that there’s no stopping her. maybe that’s what he wanted from her, to end it right there.”

Steve took a deep unsteady breath, the muscle in his jaw clenched. “She was half dead when I came by her house two years ago and wouldn’t let me take her to a real doctor. I’d like to meet that son of a bitch sometime. He played the hell out of her. I’ve been hunting him for years and Wanda protected him. We fought over that—How she could protect a sick bastard. I think he had something over her, some hold she couldn’t break and she wouldn’t let me do that for her.”

Steve’s words exploded, his frustration vibrated into the night air. “I never wanted to feel that helpless again.”

His violent emotions were vivid with rage and Natasha understood and shared them. She placed her hand on his bare forearm then slid it down his arm and eased her finger into his locked hands and wondered why she reacted to comfort him. She was shocked and angry. “We need to tell Nick,” she said carefully.

Steve scrubbed his face with his hands as if trying to erase a horrible scene. “She wouldn’t go to Nick. she knew that would cause a great deal of trouble. she didn’t want you to see how low she was. She made me promise to keep her secret.”

Natasha drew up her knees and pulled his large sweater around them down and over her feet. “And you always keep your promise.”

He looked over his shoulder to Natasha. “I’m sorry Nat. I tried telling Clint but Wanda would just freak out and threaten to kill herself. but now she’s gone… Let’s find out what that bastard has done.”

Natasha continued to look out at the ocean and shivered at the myriad of images swept by her.

Steve stood abruptly, the wind tugging at his flannel shirt and looked out into the night. “It’s getting dark. we should go.”

“You’re right.” she rose slowly to her feet, pulled the thick sweater over her head, and handed it to him.

“You look good wearing that sweater,” Steve said.

The wind pushed his hair back from his face and in the shadowy light, the hard lines had softened into genuine grief.

“We’re going to nail this son of a bitch. I’m going to dig out every information about this guy. I’m going to find out what’s his hold on her.” she said.

He smiled at that and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “That’s my girl…fearless.”

She refused to move and lifted her face to return the whisper. “Your girl? aren’t we jumping to conclusions.”

His lips brushed her cheek and his voice packed a sensual punch. “Baby, your trembling and hot. I can tell when a well-tuned motor or a woman is humming. Are you going to kiss me or not?”

That quick unexpected question took her back a step. and Steve grinned. she tilted her head and studied him for a moment. then her other hand gripped that mass of thick blonde hair and tugged his face down to hers. “Just to give you something to think about and I’m not a motor for your hands to stick right into.” she murmured before she lifted her lips to his…

She’d just tasted the wild hunger inside of him, when Steve stepped back, glared at her. “What was that about?”

“Just to prove that I’m not afraid of you. You are such a tease, Rogers. If we're going to work together might as well get this sexual tension aside.” she said as she picked up the blanket and shook it deliberately in the direction the wind would carry the sand to Steve.

She was shaking when she started to walk back down the path. she tossed the blanket into her car. Because the Tacoma was parked behind her, she had to wait until Steve walked by, slammed the door, and started the motor. When he reversed, she backed onto the road, slid Widow into drive, and pushed the powerful engine down the highway.

The Tacoma came up behind her, she was too wrapped up in the taste of Steve. how she could have devoured him. She opened and closed her hands on the steering wheel. Steve always drove her on the edge. She adjusted her rearview mirror to cut the glare of the Tacoma’s headlights. Natasha decided as she hit the right turn signal and braked hard, turned into the shoulder of the road. She didn’t wait until the Tacoma had fully stopped before she got out of the car and walked back to Steve. He was already out of his vehicle, hands on his hips. “That is no way to treat a good car, Natasha!”

“I want my cat!”

He leaned down to her and frowned, blue eyes studied her face as if trying to understand her. “I’m sorry, What?”

“Oh, have I upset you?” she asked sweetly.

“Let’s just say I wasn’t prepared,” he said and moved suddenly to pin her back against his vehicle. “Just to even up,” he whispered before bending his head to kiss her…

Steve was careful, framed her face with his hands, felt the heat beneath that smooth flesh. She didn’t back down or moved away. Instead, green eyes met blue as he studied the texture of her hair, silky in his fingers, webbed sensually against his skin.

He steadied himself and sensed that he was like free-falling off a cliff without a parachute, Steve brushed his lips against hers, the corner of her lips, one then the other. When Natasha inhaled sharply, he tasted her with the tip of his tongue, inserted it gently against her teeth. She caught his tongue and slightly bit him to stop.

Against his chest her hands flattened, her fingers dug in, she sighed and closed her eyes. She felt incredible, soft, sweet, and warm. “Open,” he whispered as he nuzzled her cheek and found her ear, and nibbled it gently.

She breathed unevenly. “Rogers?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s going on here?”

“Mm? What do you mean? the usual, I guess. You. Me. Us.” Her pulse raced. that soft skin, her throat arched for his access. He smiled.

“You’re very hard and you’re taking your time.” her voice was husky and uneven and she lifted her hips against his hardness. Steve moved his foot between hers, nudged it until her legs opened just that bit. “I’m a thorough sort of guy.”

Her arms were around his shoulders, her hands gripped his hair. He studied her expression just to see how far he could go, Steve’s hands wandered downward, over the soft curve of her breasts, tested the warmth of it.

“You’re all hot and shaking, Rogers.” Natasha murmured huskily, he realized she tested him as much as he pushed her.

She didn’t move when he smoothed her hips and cupped her bottom. kneaded that softness. She was surprised when he lifted her against him. Then face to face, Natasha looked at him and her lips curved, confident, and in control. “A little macho, baby I’m so strong demonstration?”

The rock hard ache below his belt proved that she won. It took all of Steve’s willpower to carry her to her car and let her slid down his body. “Nope, just trying to pry you off me and send you on your way, before you embarrassed yourself.”

Natasha’s confident smirk died and she snapped. “I want my cat back. Rogers.”

Her frustrated groan pleased him. She revved up the engine and scowled up at him. He let it pass this time and the tires spun as the Widow dugout onto the highway again.

Steve shook his head and grinned as the taillights disappeared into the night. The kiss proved that things might not be as easy as it looked. He inhaled the damped night air and got into his rig, started it, and sat for a moment while the motor idled. He shook his head and put the Tacoma in gear.


End file.
